


The Ties That Bind

by NightValeian



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Canon Compliant, Coping, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hair Braiding, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 14:43:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19336636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightValeian/pseuds/NightValeian
Summary: Not too long after time began, Aziraphale learned how to braid hair.Not too long after that, Crowley's hair became his favorite thing to braid.





	The Ties That Bind

Aziraphale had learned how to braid from a group of humans nearly 5000 years ago during his travels and he thought it was absolutely delightful.

The way that braiding could be used to weave strands of hair together in different ways to create these beautiful styles was something he's never imagined being able to do before. And while braiding was mostly meant for hair, it could also be used be used for creating different everyday items.

Humans were just so creative.

As time went on and miracles had to be performed, braiding things turned more into a nervous habit for Aziraphale. There were times he didn't agree with God's Plan, when the suffering of humans just seemed so wrong, but going against the Great Plan was unheard of and while he helplessly looked on at the events on Earth, his fingers would be twisting several strands of string into a simple braid over and over again until his anxieties quelled.

Unfortunately, a short length of string or rope or even ribbon wasn't always enough.

Fortunately, he had Crowley.

In the beginning, Crowley had kept his hair very long. Long ginger locks, while sometimes styled differently, would always manage to reach his shoulders, blowing loosely across his face in the wind.

Aziraphale, while an angel and Crowley a demon, always thought Crowley had lovely hair. No matter what style he tried, it suited him, and even though it wasn't his place, Aziraphale desperately wanted to see a braid in Crowley's hair.

But how did an angel ask a demon to allow him so close just to weave his hair into a new style? Of course, he could simply miracle a braid into his hair but it wasn't really the same and doing it without permission would be very invasive of Crowley's space.

So he simply stuck to braiding string, yarn, ribbon, anything else he could get his hands on and carried on.

* * *

 

The first time Aziraphale slipped a braid into Crowley's hair, they were on the ark during the Great Flood.

The angel had ventured below deck to check on the animals and there had been the demon, settled in amongst a group of young men, women, and children who had been meant to be left behind.

The flood had meant to wipe out a good portion of humankind and while it was God's Plan, it hadn't settled well with Aziraphale or Crowley to let innocents perish.

"I figured by saving them, I'd be going against Her Plan." Crowley had said defensively, avoiding the Angel's eyes.

"You've bested me again, demon. How can I compete with your devious ways?" Aziraphale asked with a roll of his eyes, a fond smile on his face as he approached the group. "Make room."

Crowley managed to make a little room for him, the surprised look plain as day on his face, and Aziraphale slid down to take a seat beside him on the wooden floor, back pressed rather uncomfortably against the wall.

The journey was incredibly long, most of it filled with light conversation between the two of them but when they finally slipped into silence, Aziraphale brought out his strings as the anxiety set in.

He was talking with the enemy, allowed the demon to sneak people onto the ark, and now they were sitting side by side like they were friends. His fingers moved quickly, mindlessly twisting the strings as his thoughts raged in his head.

What if this was the wrong thing to do? But how could allowing people to live be wrong? How could savings lives be a bad thing even if it went against Her Plan?

"What are you doing?"

Crowley's voice shook him from his thoughts and he startled, looking at him then down at his hands.

"Oh! I'm braiding."

Crowley frowned, squinting curiously.

"What is...braiding?"

Aziraphale smiled and showed him his work in progress.

"A group of humans taught me not too long ago. You weave strands together like so and..." He demonstrated the technique he'd been taught with practiced ease. "There! It's very relaxing."

Crowley watched his hands closely as he worked the strings and not even a moment later had miracles himself up a small collection of string as well, holding them awkwardly in his hands.

"Show me again."

Aziraphale's smile grew wider and he repeated the technique at a slower pace so Crowley could learn.

Crowley didn't quite have the patience for it in the end, but it did help pass the time.

"Seems kind of boring after a while. Just braiding the same pieces over and over." Crowley commented because though he had given up, his yellow eyes were still fixated on Aziraphale's working hands.

"Well, it's meant for more lengthier projects, I suppose. Hair mostly, but I've seen it used for making different clothes and household items." Aziraphale said with a small shrug of his shoulders. "I’ve never personally cared for long hair on myself and I never stay in one place long enough to take on a big weaving project, so I work with what I have,”

Crowley hummed with interest, continuing to watch for a few moments more before he heaved a great sigh, pushing the hood from his head and exposed his ginger locks to the open air. He ran his long fingers through them and then dragged the hair over the shoulder closest to Aziraphale.

"Here then."

"Crowley?"

"Meant for hair, isn't it?"

Aziraphale's eyes widened, fingers fumbling over the strings due to his surprise.

"R-Really?"

Crowley rolled his eyes, waving his hand dismissively.

"Yeah, yeah. Before I change my mind "

He honestly should have hesitated more than he had. 

Aziraphale miracled the strings away and turned towards Crowley, fingers reaching up eagerly to touch the exposed hair. The locks of hair were a lot softer than he'd imagined they'd be and the strands moved easily as he manipulated them into a small simple braid.

When he finished, Aziraphale withdrew his hands and admired his work.

"Well! That looks lovely."

Crowley brought his hand up and let his fingers trace over the braid, an odd look crossing his features that Aziraphale couldn't quite put a name to.

"Thanks, angel."

Aziraphale blinked, then smiled brightly.

"You're welcome."

* * *

After the first time Crowley allowed Aziraphale to braid his hair, it became more of a normal occurrence. Whenever they crossed each other's paths throughout history, Crowley always left the encounter with some kind of braid in his hair.

It wasn't something they ever discussed, but Crowley would always offer with a silent tilt of his head whenever he noticed Aziraphale's nervous fingers working frantically across strings and Aziraphale would gratefully make quick work of his hair, weaving it into some new style he'd picked up before sending Crowley on his way.

Aziraphale would never mention how much he appreciated Crowley's kindness, mostly because Crowley would deny that he'd  _ ever _ been kind.

Crowley granting him a few minutes to escape from the war between Heaven and Hell just by allowing a simple braid to be woven into his hair?

It was the greatest kindness Crowley could give him.

* * *

The day Crowley cut his hair much too short for Aziraphale to braid felt more like a personal attack.

There had been several times in the past that Crowley had made his hair too short for braiding.

Rome, was the first time, and that had been a shock.

Then that time in the late 1800’s.

Several times, Crowley had changed his hair after they’d had a bit of an argument, making it shorter  _ knowing _ Aziraphale would be upset over it.  

But it was so much different this time.

It was a handful of days before the Apocalypse was supposed to set in and Crowley had  _ cut _ his hair.

"You've cut your hair."

"Yeah, thought I'd try something new."

"Oh."

"You don't like it?"

"Oh, no! It's lovely! It really suits you!"

And honestly, it did look nice. Crowley never had a haircut that Aziraphale never truly thought looked bad on him.

Except that one in the 1960's, but even Crowley never wanted to discuss  _ that _ again.

The Anti-Christ was lost, Heaven and Hell were days away from war, and Crowley had cut his hair.

The world really was ending.

Aziraphale tried to keep it together, honestly. There was so much to do and they were quickly running out of time. His anxiety was through the roof, but anxiety was a weakness. He was an Angel of the Lord, for Heaven's sake. He had to keep it together, especially in front of Crowley.

When Crowley wasn't around, he was braiding frantically in the privacy of his bookshop, the poor ribbons frayed from being constantly worked and reworked, as he tried to make sense of where the whole matter of the Anti-Christ had gone so terribly wrong and how they could possibly stop the Apocalypse.

* * *

"You haven't been braiding as much lately."

"Hm?"

"You haven't been braiding."

Aziraphale laughed nervously, waving his hand and hoping Crowley wouldn't notice the way his fingers trembled.

"Haven't had time with all this Apocalypse business, I'm afraid." He admitted. “Oh, but I have been weaving some new baskets to sell at the shop! They are coming along beautifully if I do say so myself!”

Crowley hummed, studying him intensely from behind his sunglasses. If he noticed how tightly Aziraphale clasped his hands in his lap, he didn't mention it and the angel was grateful for it.

"Doing alright, angel?"

"Yes, dear boy, of course. Why?"

"Just checking up. Been a busy couple of days."

Aziraphale smiled, touched by his concern.

"I'll be alright. Don't you worry."

* * *

The Apocalypse ended before it began, the war between Heaven and Hell had been stopped, and the Earth would continue to spin on with humanity completely intact.

Meanwhile, an angel and a demon were seated on a bench awaiting a bus.

"I suppose I should get him to drop me off at the bookshop then."

Aziraphale just wanted to go home, do some idle braiding, ponder this final prophecy and hopefully put this whole mess behind him.

"It burned down, remember?"

Crowley's tone was gentle, as if he were talking to a spooked animal and Aziraphale felt his lower lip tremble at the realization that oh, yes, it  _ had _ burned down, hadn't it?

Everything was gone.

"You could come back to my place for the night. We could figure it out from there?"

Aziraphale managed a weak smile, fingers trembling in his lap.

"I-I'm afraid my side wouldn't like that."

"The only side we have is our own."

* * *

Aziraphale had never actually been inside Crowley's apartment before and he really didn't know what he'd expected.

It was spacious, kind of empty, yet decorated in a way that felt surprisingly like coming home.

"I know you don't sleep, but you're more than welcome to the bed. It's comfortable, made sure of that." Crowley began as they walked inside, tossing his sunglasses onto the small table by the door. "Kettle's always hot, tea in the cabinet. No cocoa, I'm afraid, but…"

He paused, turning to Aziraphale who still stood in the entryway, fingers fumbling through the motions of braiding despite having nothing to braid.

"Angel?"

Aziraphale fixed his eyes on Crowley and managed a shaky smile, the day's events having caught up with him all at once now that they were both in the safety of Crowley's home. He opened his mouth to offer reassurance that he was just  _ fine  _ and simply being ridiculous,  but no noise came out.

"Alright, angel, it's alright." Crowley said gently, approaching him and wrapping his hands around his trembling ones. "It's all over now, angel. Just relax."

Aziraphale laughed, borderline hysterical.

Relax? How could he relax?

"It's  _ not _ over. Crowley, it can't just be  _ over.  _ Heaven and Hell are going to be furious about how we stopped the Apocalypse and we still have one prophecy we haven't decoded."

"And we  _ will  _ figure it out, but not with you shaking like a leaf in the entryway."

Aziraphale swallowed the lump in his throat and then nodded shakily, allowing Crowley to lead him further inside and eventually coax to sitting on the couch in the living room.

Once Aziraphale was seated, Crowley knelt in front of him, still clasping his hands within his own.

"Don't have anything for you to braid with, I'm afraid."

"It's quite alright, dear. I promise."

Crowley's eyes narrowed, studying him with a disapproving frown.

"I'm not sure  _ why  _ you stopped. Obviously it was helping you cope with all this nonsense."

"It's always been my little habit. Something I do when I have a lot on my mind." Aziraphale sighed. "I didn't want to worry you. I didn't want you to know how nervous I really was."

Crowley rolled his eyes. "Angel, you've been braiding for almost 5,000 years. You think I didn't  _ know _ you were doing it because you were nervous?"

They looked at each other for a long time, holding each other's hands so tightly that if they were simply human, it would be painful.

After a moment, Crowley released his hands and stood up, face set in a determined expression.

"Right then."

And with a snap of his fingers, Crowley's outrageously short hair was now a perfect vision of what it had been in 2007; long, flowing, the kind of hair that Aziraphale would have braided for hours if they'd only had the time.

Crowley sprawled out on the couch, pillowing his head in Aziraphale's lap and closed his eyes.

"Crowley, what in Heaven's--"

"Limited time only, you know, because I do enjoy my short hair."

Aziraphale stared at Crowley in disbelief for a few moments, one hand running through the ginger locks he was so fond of and the other affectionately cupping Crowley's cheek.

"Thank you, dearest."

Crowley reached back to grasp Aziraphale's hand, bringing it forward until he could turn his head and pressed a gentle kiss to his wrist, eyes still closed.

"I need my hand back if I'm going to braid your hair, you know."

The demon grumbled, released his hand and Aziraphale got to work, fingers working Crowley's hair into multiple little braids. Once he finished, he would undo them, run his fingers through his hair and then start over.

"Rest now, you grumpy serpent."

As Crowley drifted off to sleep under the comfort of Aziraphale's hands, the angel continued his work, reciting Agnus Nutter's final prophecy under his breath, trying to figure out what it all meant.

Come morning, they'd have a new plan, but for now, Aziraphale would watch over Crowley. 

**Author's Note:**

> I write for Good Omens now what can I say ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Leave me a comment!


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